


My Oh My

by whatwasthatharry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff and Smut, M/M, Modeling, Photography, Sexual Tension, Smut, zayn being a greek god
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 10:43:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3526304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatwasthatharry/pseuds/whatwasthatharry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Harry is a photographer, Zayn is a model, and sparks fly between them during a photo shoot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Oh My

**Author's Note:**

> This comes from some long conversations with blainedarling as well as my ever growing desire to write Zarry. Enjoy!

Harry is sitting at his desk, flicking through photos of his last shoot to try to find something remotely good. He did his best to get…Nick, he thinks his name was, out of his shell and to actually give some fire behind his eyes for the camera, but there is nothing simply outstanding as he goes through. Typically, he prides himself on bringing models out of their shells, but this time there were only one or two shots he could possibly get away with using.

The loud smack of a manila envelope against the glass of his desk breaks him from his thoughts, and he glances up to see Liam staring down at him, arms folded. Harry quirks an eyebrow up, but Liam just nods at the file.

“This is your model for the next shoot,” he says in explanation as Harry picks it up.

Zayn Malik, 23 is scrawled across the side and he flicks it open, taking in headshots and various photo shoots he did in the past, photographers he worked with. Harry never understands why Liam insists on giving him the entire background of the model he is about to shoot with, but since this is for a cover, his first cover, he doesn’t make a snarky remark about it.

“Strong cheekbones,” Harry mutters, more to himself than Liam. There are whispers about Zayn Malik surrounding the fashion world, ones he’s been hearing about for months now; the up and coming new model who it is a pity no one snatched up earlier in his life because he is a Greek God (which they always say about whichever model is taking center stage currently). The picture is older, at least two years old, a clearly fading stripe of blonde in his hair and a jawline that could cut glass. His eyes are what draw Harry in though, a fire behind them in a simple headshot that he wasn’t able to get from Nick with over one hundred frames. 

“He’ll photograph well. Do you know if they’re okay with the tattoos showing?”

Liam nods, body relaxing as he moves to sit down across from Harry, flicking his phone out of his pocket to check an email, most likely. “They like it.”

Harry hums in response and leans back in his chair, kicking his feet up on the desk. 

“He’s a pretty one.”

Liam glances up with narrowed eyes, an eyebrow raised and mouth pinched at the sides. “Don’t fuck this one, Haz.”

“Heyyy,” Harry pouts, looking every bit the young adult he is, “That happened once, ages ago. And it was a week after the photo shoot.”

“Don’t even know if this ones gay,” Liam points out, always the voice of reason.

Harry smiles a little, dimples just barely deepening on his cheeks. “Could always find out,” he teases, shooting a wink at Liam.

He only rolls his eyes in response, but Harry can see the fondness behind the action. “Thought you were a professional?” he teases back.

“I am!” Harry says quickly, frowning at Liam as he places the file off to the side. “He’s not that good looking anyway. I have no desire to actually fuck him on set.”

Liam laughs softly. “Good.”

\---

Harry’s bouncing around the set a week later, Liam off to the side and on the phone, probably taking care of something for the next shoot already, and Niall is in the corner lying on the couch. They are supposed to go out for dinner later and he decided to tag along with Harry since he was only in town for a few days.

“Niall, come here,” Harry mutters as he squints at the set, head tilted to the side. 

“m’sleeping, Harry,” he mumbles, and Harry rolls his eyes. 

He walks over to the leather couch and straddles Niall’s hips, hands resting on his chest as he stares down at him. One eye blinks open, meeting Harry’s cheeky smile, before the other one opens as well.

“Is this where the term ‘casting couch’ comes from?” Niall asks.

Harry slaps his chest lightly. “Shut up. I need your help.”

Niall simply closes his eyes again and yawns, “Ask Li, he’s your slave, isn’t he?”

“Liam is my assistant. And also my friend,” Harry says, hitting Niall again. “And a better friend then you if you don’t come help me.”

Niall mumbles something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like “You’re an ass,” but Harry rightly ignores it, climbing off of him and pulling at his arms.

“Niallll, pleaseeee,” he whines, eyes turning sad and wide as he begs.

“That’s not fair,” Niall sighs when he opens his eyes to be met with Harry’s pleading face. “Green eyes all big and wide like that. You know that gets anyone to say yes.”

Harry smiles as Niall stands up, wrapping him in a hug before skipping over to Liam to take the phone out of his hands and hang up the call.

“Harry! That was – “

“Don’t care, call them back. I need you to help too,” he hums, pulling Liam over to the set up for the shoot, grabbing Niall as well. He sticks them both in front of the camera, ignoring Liam’s muttering.

“How anyone wants to work with you is beyond me. One of the most wanted young photographers and acts like a freaking five year old skipping around – “

“Okay!” Harry says loudly, promptly cutting Liam off as he steps behind the camera. “The lighting feels a bit off, so I want you to do some poses for me so I can do some test shots.”

“Can’t you just do that with Zayn?” Liam asks with a frown, glancing over at Niall who looks just as confused. 

“I can, and I will,” Harry hums, snapping a few shots, pouting when the lighting comes out just as wrong as he suspected. “But how often do you get to say you’ve been photographed by the one and only Harry Styles?”

“Haz, you are constantly taking pictures on your phone every time we go out and –“

“Not the point, Niall!” Harry interrupts again, signaling to one of the lighting guys to move a light a little higher on the right side. “Just give me one model pose, the both of you, and I’ll stop.”

After a bit more prodding, and some death glares from Liam, Harry finally gets a model pose from them. It isn’t for anything, but they are running early and Harry wants to pass the time before Zayn shows up. Plus, the lighting really is bothering him. It’s a simple set-up, just a white backdrop to make the clothes Zayn will be wearing pop, but Harry still needs it to be perfect.

“Did you ever call that guy, Haz?” Niall asks, making Harry jump when he’s suddenly right behind him. 

“What guy?” he asks, distracted as he flicks through Zayn’s file again, trying to figure out which angles will work best, even though Liam is right and he can just do some test shots with Zayn to figure all this out. For some reason Harry chooses not to focus on, he is slightly annoyed that it appears Zayn will be able to be photographed perfectly from every single angle. 

“Ben? I think. You went out a few times.”

Harry hums under his breath as he thinks back, shrugging his shoulders a bit as he tries to remember. “Ben…from like, four months ago? No; he was fun for a dinner or two.”

Niall sighs and wraps an arm around his shoulder, messing up Harry’s curls that are hanging loose instead of tied up in a bun today. 

“When was the last time you were in a relationship, Haz?”

Harry rolls his eyes for what feels like the millionth time around Niall, resting his head on his shoulder and letting out a slow breath. “I’m fine, Ni. It hasn’t been that long.”

“It has,” Liam says as he walks over to them, resting his hand on Harry’s back as he looks at him. “It’s been two, going on three years since you last properly dated someone.”

Harry sighs, nuzzling his face against Niall’s neck before pulling away with a soft smile. “I’m fine, really. Just haven’t found the right guy. Not like I’ve been completely alone,” he winks.

“I’m in my early twenties, stop worrying,” Harry continues as he takes a step back, predictably tripping over the stand for his camera and falling on his butt.

“What was that again?” Liam asks with amusement in his voice as he reaches a hand down to help Harry up. Harry smiles sheepishly and takes the proffered hand, pressing a playful kiss to Liam’s cheek once he’s standing again. 

“Thanks, babe,” he smiles, just as the sound of footsteps and a door opening filter through the studio.

A guy with brown hair swept to the side, tight black pants and a white button down rolled at the sleeves walks in, tapping out a message on his phone before he looks up and smiles, a little forced, at the other people in the room. But Harry can’t focus on him, barely listening when he walks over and introduces himself as Louis. Liam’s immediately huddled in discussion with him, a clear sign that this must be Zayn’s manager, but Harry isn’t focused on that. Because Zayn Malik just walked through the door. 

Harry doesn’t like to admit when he’s wrong, can only recall actually owning up to it once in the past, but he was so completely and utterly wrong about Zayn. Calling him pretty and scoffing at the people who talked about him like a god is the worst thing Harry could’ve done. Because Zayn…fuck, Zayn is gorgeous. Harry didn’t even know it was possible for a human to be that beautiful, and right now he’s questioning whether or not it’s possible that Zayn is actually a Greek God masking as a human. He shakes his head, dispelling the ridiculous thought, but he keeps his eyes focused on Zayn.

He makes his way over to Louis and Liam off to the side, slinging an arm around Louis’ neck as he leans in to their conversation. Harry can sense the ease between the two, and he feels a slight twinge of jealousy that Liam is the one talking to Zayn and that Louis has Zayn’s arm wrapped around him.

“I think I might even turn bi for a bit for him,” Niall whispers into his ear, and Harry’s laugh is delayed, brain slow in processing the words.

Zayn’s dressed in black boots and a pair of sinfully tight black jeans, carefully crafted rips sliding up each leg, revealing hints of skin every time he moves. He’s got a white and blue pinstriped short-sleeved dress shirt on, buttoned at the color and the sleeves rolled up once. Harry probably should’ve been in hair and make-up when they got him ready, always liked to be, but he’d been too caught up fixing the lighting and joking with Liam and Niall to remember. He trusts Louise and Caroline to make his model look amazing and now he’s pissed they didn’t text to warn him what he was in store for. 

It’s not like Zayn’s outfit is anything crazy, a simple design for the set and cover. One outfit since it’s not a spread, and now Harry wishes it was a spread because then he’d probably have a chance to shoot Zayn shirtless. Harry can’t remember a time he’s ever wanted to shoot a male model shirtless as much as right now. 

As if the outfit isn’t enough, Zayn’s arms are littered with tattoos, a sleeve on his right and a tiger peeking out from his left bicep as well as an intricate design on his hand that Harry wants to spend hours tracing the lines of. He subconsciously runs a hand over his sleeve, where his own tattoos rest on his forearm, wanting to touch Zayn’s and find out why he got each and every one of them.

But if Harry’s being really honest with himself, as his eyes roam over Zayn’s body (glad that Niall seems to have gotten bored and retreated to the couch to play a game on his phone and Liam, Zayn, and Louis are too wrapped up in their conversation to notice his staring), it’s Zayn’s face that Harry can’t tear his eyes from. It’s like it was sculpted to a perfection by a famous artist; angles sharp and pristine and practically illegal. No one should be allowed to walk around with a jawline that strong and cheekbones that beautiful. There’s a slight stubble dusting his cheeks, only a few days old, but Harry wants to feel it against him. 

And then there’s his hair. Harry always had a thing for guys with longer hair like himself, likes to tug at it during sexy, likes the way it falls and frames their face. Zayn’s hair is longer then it is in the picture in his file, sides shaved and meeting at a little v in the back of his scalp, the hair in the middle of his head loose and long. It’s brushed over towards the right, falling over his eyes, and there’s a slight wave to it. Clearly something Louise did; Harry can see the slight shine from product and hairspray, and he wants to run his fingers through it, tug on it, mess it up and hear Zayn moan.

There’s a loud bang, Niall dropping his phone on the floor, and Harry shakes his head to come out of his thoughts about Zayn, immediately becoming aware of a growing problem. Liam looks over at him with an eyebrow raised, and Harry knows his face is flushed by the quirk of his lips. He’s never going to hear the end of this after the shoot. Harry shakes his head and holds up a finger, singling one minute to Liam as he disappears into the back to the restroom.

Harry places his hands on the sink, breathing heavily as he turns on the cold water and splashes himself a few times. 

“Get it together, Harry. You’re a goddamn professional,” he mutters to himself, willing his growing erection to leave. It takes him a few minutes before his body calms down and he relaxes. With one more splash of cold water and a shake of his head, Harry leaves the bathroom to return to the shoot. Zayn Malik might appear to be some Greek God, but Harry has a shoot to complete.

“Alright!” he says as he comes back out, clapping his hands and voice a bit too high for his normal tone. Zayn immediately looks over at him, and Harry bites his lip as their eyes meet, taking a deep breath and averting his eyes before he lets his mind go crazy again. He just needs to get behind the camera, needs to distract himself with the process of shooting, and then he’ll be fine.

Harry hears soft laughter from Niall but he ignores it. Niall’s known him for years and probably knows exactly what Harry is struggling with, even Liam looks like he knows and is that a smirk on Louis’ face? Harry shakes his head for the hundredth time to clear his thoughts; he really needs to stop letting his mind wander, and focuses back on the task at hand.

“Zayn, if you can step on the mark I’ve placed down, I want to get a few test shots for the lighting and then we’ll get started,” Harry says, voice professional and crisp, no signs of his attraction to Zayn present. 

Zayn listens immediately, clapping a hand on Louis’ back and whispering something in his ear that makes him roll his eyes and shoot a glance at Harry before nodding at Zayn. Harry ignores it, fiddling with something on the camera that he doesn’t actually need to worry about.

It only takes a few shots to get the lighting right, most of the problems fixed from his earlier moment with Niall and Liam, and before he knows it Harry is telling Zayn that they’re starting.

And if Harry thought Zayn was gorgeous before, the way he comes alive the second Harry starts shooting would further destroy any doubts he might have had about him.

The first few shots are simple, clearly Zayn warming up, but by the time they’re on the ninth frame there’s a fire behind his eyes that Harry can’t even get from the best models in the business at times. He’s fucking on, and his eyes bore into the camera like it’s not even there and he’s just staring straight through Harry and taking him apart piece by piece. He feels his cock twitch in his pants, but Harry bites his lip and ignores it. He has a job to do.

He asks Zayn to angle his body, and immediately realizes that while that works, Harry will get the best shots if he does this with a handheld camera instead of keeping it stationary. He holds up a finger to Zayn, to which he gets a playful eye roll and a sigh like he’s used to this, like it always happens. And it probably does, Harry thinks. Zayn has so many angles to play with, the photographer has to move around with him to capture them all.

He switches cameras quickly, taking a test shot or two with it before going back to the actual shoot. Zayn spends a few frames looking away from the camera like Harry directed so he can get his profile, but then turns back to the camera, biting his lip with a slight smirk and his eyes dark and boring into the camera. That one look has Harry hard and aching in his jeans, and he curses himself for wearing skinny jeans that day because Zayn has to be aware of the growing bulge he has now.

Harry doesn’t think about it though, won’t let himself indulge in the thought or really acknowledge that he’s hard. He’s only 30 frames in and still has the majority of the shoot left, and if he’ll be a mess afterwards and have to get himself off in the bathroom the second it’s over, so be it.

Zayn doesn’t say anything as they continue, following Harry’s direction and adding his own twist to it as they go, and Harry realizes he hasn’t actually spoken to him once since he walked through the door. Which is probably for the best, because Harry’s beginning to think there isn’t one thing about Zayn that’s not absolutely sinful.

Harry pauses for a second to adjust something on the camera and Zayn winks at him in that break between frames, eyes roaming over Harry’s body and he feels himself flush when they land on his crotch, an eyebrow raised as he looks back at him and winks, again. 

And Harry can’t deny it now, can’t deny that he’s hard and can’t deny that Zayn fucking knows it, knows what he’s doing to him. But he doesn’t seem to care, seems to be enjoying the effect he’s having on Harry. He has to push the thought away again, annoyed with himself for the way he can’t seem to act like a fucking professional and do his job even with someone like Zayn standing in front of him.

He takes a few more shots from the angle he’s at, taking a deep breath before he steps closer to Zayn and kneels down, camera angled up for the shot. He’s resolutely not thinking about the fact that he is on his knees in front of Zayn Malik. It’s definitely not the thought racing through his mind. He’s definitely not picturing himself on his knees for Zayn and sucking him off.

Zayn is staring down at him, eyes hooded and darker then they were at the beginning of the shoot. Harry feels a thrill travel through him at the realization that that is want coursing through Zayn’s eyes. He licks his bottom lip slowly and Harry snaps the shot, knowing it won’t be the one to use but wanting to capture that look anyway.

“I’ve never seen Zayn so intense,” he hears a voice whisper from behind him. 

Right. People. Photoshoot. There are other people there and Harry had honestly forgotten they exist, too wrapped up in Zayn. Normally, he’d be talking throughout the shoot, to the model, to his team, the stylist, the client, Liam, everyone. But everything in him is hyper focused on Zayn right now.

“Harry’s a good photographer.” And that’s definitely Liam, Harry thinks, knowing he’d take any opportunity to get Harry’s name out there, to make it clear that Harry can get these kind of shots. And distantly, Harry knows they’re good, that Zayn looks fantastic and he’ll have a hard time choosing one photo because they’ll all be perfect. He doesn’t know how much of that is him and how much of that is the fire that Zayn seems to bring to his shoots.

“We should see about setting them up for another shoot,” someone else murmurs, and Harry’s pretty sure it’s Louis. “Never seen Zayn be so alive for the camera before.”

He tunes the voices back out to focus on Zayn, standing up and moving for a different angle. Harry watches the way Zayn’s arms flex against the shirt as he moves, twists his body the way Harry asks him to. Just take off the shirt, Harry thinks, wanting to see more of Zayn’s skin.

But then there’s slender fingers at Zayn’s collar, popping the button open and slowly moving down and shit, Harry said that out loud and now Zayn is actually doing it. He manages to hold up a hand to stop Zayn from pulling it off when it’s unbuttoned, figuring he could actually get away with some unbuttoned shots but not a shirtless shot; the shirt was part of the outfit, part of the style the client wanted. 

There’s even more tattoo’s across Zayn’s chest, wings and some phrases in Arabic that Harry wants to know the meaning of. Harry’s desperate to place his lips over the red ones tattooed against Zayn’s sternum. Zayn is staring at him, a smirk on his face saying that he knows exactly what he is doing to Harry and that he knows he didn’t have to take his shirt off yet did it anyway. Harry glares back, more angry now that Zayn is clearly playing with him when he’s trying to be professional with this. 

He huffs and picks the camera back up, taking another ten frames of Zayn and fighting against the urge to let his mind wander to all the ways he’d trace over Zayn’s tattoos with his tongue. 

Liam comes over a few minutes later, placing a hand on his back and making him jump. 

“Ten more frames, Haz,” he whispers.

Harry knows that. He always keeps track of how many shots he has left; Liam knows he never needs to be reminded. But then he catches the way Liam is looking at him, eyebrows raised as he looks between him and Zayn, and Harry realizes this is Liam bringing him back to the job at hand. He nods in thanks, and turns back to Zayn to take the final frames, Zayn giving the last shots every thing he has, desire and want burning fiercely in his eyes and it makes Harry’s breathing speed up. 

On the last frame, Zayn grabs his crotch and fucking winks at him, and Harry’s breath hitches as he nearly drops the camera.

“Fuck,” he whispers, and the smirk on Zayn’s face tells him that he heard. Harry wants to wipe that stupid look off his face.

Harry hears the shuffle of people moving around as he places the camera down. Zayn nods at someone behind him, and Harry turns around to see Louis turning to walk out the door, everyone else following behind. Niall and Liam give Harry a long look, and Niall laughs as Liam pushes him out the door, pulling it closed behind him.

And then Harry and Zayn are alone. They’re alone and the shoot is over, and Harry realizes that everyone left them purposefully. And if the way Niall and Liam looked at him says anything, he should be embarrassed that they all left so him and Zayn could fuck if they want to, but he can’t bring himself to care. Can’t worry about the fact that they know what Harry wants, what Zayn seems to want too, and can’t worry about the fact that the walls are rather thin so depending on where they are, they’ll hear everything.

Harry turns back to look at Zayn. He’s standing there with his shirt unbuttoned and hands clasped behind him, looking to the side and biting his lip like he doesn’t know what just happened, like he’s not aware of the effect he’s had on Harry, like he wasn’t purposefully riling Harry up the entire shoot.

Harry feels anger boil through him, want filling every nerve ending he has and he finds himself rushing Zayn, pushing him up against the wall, hard. Zayn looks at him, licking his lips slowly and Harry surges forward, capturing his lips in a fierce kiss and tangling his tongue with Zayn’s.

He feels Zayn relax against him, pushing his chest against Harry’s as they kiss harder, nipping at each other’s lips before Harry pulls away.

“Are you always this much of a tease on photo shoots?” he breathes, annoyance laced in his voice that’s really just desperation.

“Only for you, babe,” Zayn says playfully, mouth curling at the sides in another stupid smirk that Harry wants to wipe off. And that’s the first ting Zayn’s said to Harry, first time he’s ever heard his voice, and Harry was right; his voice is just as sinful as the rest of him. 

He pushes forward to kiss him again, one hand cupping Zayn’s neck as his thumb brushes over the shaved side of his hair. Zayn lets out a soft moan, and Harry does it again, getting the same reaction. He pulls back, placing slow kisses over Zayn’s neck and cataloging that response for later.

“Wanna suck you off,” he mumbles against Zayn’s collarbone, licking over the skin there as he slowly kisses down Zayn’s chest, his fingers lightly brushing over Zayn’s nipples and he arches into the touch.

“Fuck…” Zayn pants, and Harry smiles at the scratchy tone of his voice.

He nips at Zayn’s hipbone once he’s on his knees, sucking harshly on the skin there until a dark bruise forms, hands resting high on his thighs.

“Don’t be a tease,” Zayn practically growls from above him, gentle fingers carding through Harry’s hair and tugging. Harry lets out a soft moan but doesn’t stop leaving marks across Zayn’s skin.

“Can’t take what you dish out, babe?” Harry breathes as he glares up at Zayn, his confidence returning. He doesn’t lose it like he did before in front of guys, get so wrapped up in them that he can’t concentrate. 

Zayn huffs out a laugh, almost like he’s glad Harry gives as good as he gets. 

“Do you want me to beg?” he murmurs, and Harry looks up to see Zayn fluttering his eyelashes down at him. And that’s just criminal; how can his eyelashes make Harry’s cock harder?

Harry taps Zayn’s hip slowly, like he’s contemplating the thought and not actually trying to get himself back under control.

“That’d be nice,” he finally says, dimples slowly deepening as he smirks. “Lets hear if you beg well enough for me to give you what you’re clearly desperate for.”

Harry doesn’t miss the way Zayn’s hips jerk or the subtle change in his breathing as it grows harsher, chest moving more rapidly than before. And this, this is who Harry is with guys. The one who makes them fall apart right in front of him. He’s not some blubbering idiot who can’t get through a shoot; he’s the guy who makes people beg for his mouth and leaves them wanting more when he’s done.

His eyes are fixed on Zayn, who’s staring right back at him as he slowly licks his lips, smacking them together as he plays with Harry’s hair. Harry tries not to lean into the touch, doesn’t need Zayn knowing how weak he is for people playing with his hair, especially during sex.

“Your mouth is pretty,” Zayn whispers, his other hand slowly tracing over Harry’s lips. “Such pretty lips,” and it’s said so quietly Harry’s not sure he was actually supposed to hear it. 

“Will you please, please, suck me off?”

And Harry can hear that Zayn is teasing him a little, but he can also hear how desperate he sounds too. Maybe if they weren’t on a set with people standing outside the room, which Harry avoids thinking about, he’d make Zayn beg more, wait until he’s in pieces to finally give him what he wants, but Harry’s been hard since the second Zayn walked through the door and if he doesn’t do something soon, he’ll explode.

“Acceptable,” Harry hums as he licks over the bruise he left on Zayn’s hip, quickly flipping open the button on his jeans and pulling his cock out. 

Harry wastes no time, licking up the underside of Zayn’s cock before swirling his tongue around the head, moaning softly at the taste of the pre-cum there. He hears Zayn whimper “Harry” above him, already in love with the sound of his name falling from Zayn’s lips. He takes him all the way in, sucking harshly.

He feels Zayn’s thighs shaking harder underneath his hands as he holds him against the wall, humming around him as he takes him in deeper. 

“Fuck, Harry…so good,” he breathes, and Harry loves this, making Zayn fall apart. And he can tell Zayn is trying to hold back, trying not to let Harry win because Zayn is just like him, wants to make his partner fall apart, but Zayn is just letting out needy sounds and it spurs Harry on.

Zayn tugs hard at Harry’s curls and he groans around him, eyes fluttering closed as he feels Zayn hit the back of his throat.

“Shit, Harry,” Zayn whimpers as Harry deep throats him, hips jerking hard when he realizes Harry can do that effortlessly. 

Harry can’t hold back anymore, with Zayn falling apart above him and his mouth wrapped around him; he has to touch himself, hard and aching from the long shoot and listening to Zayn. He unhooks his belt and undoes his jeans, pulling his cock out and spreading the pre-cum there around the head as he starts to stroke himself. 

He can feel Zayn’s eyes burning into him, knows he’s watching Harry jerk himself off as he sucks him, and Harry gets no warning except for another harsh tug on his curls before Zayn is spilling into his mouth, thighs shaking hard as he rides out his high. 

Harry swallows everything Zayn gives him, licking him clean as he pulls off. Zayn is panting heavily, eyes closed and head thrown back against the wall as he comes back to himself. Harry watches as he weakly tucks himself back into his jeans, not bothering to redo the button, and slides down the walls so he’s on his knees in front of Harry.

Zayn leans forward, hand hooked around Harry’s neck, and pulls him in for a kiss. Harry lets his mouth fall open when he feels Zayn’s tongue against his lips, let’s him taste himself. When Zayn pulls back his eyes are glazed over, looking completely wrecked as he leans back on his heels. 

“Fuck my mouth,” he whispers, jaw dropping open and Harry’s breath catches. 

He stares at Zayn for a moment, trying to remember how to breathe, and then he’s quickly stumbling to his feet and positioning himself in front of Zayn.

“I…yeah…okay…I…yes,” he stutters and in the next second, he feels the warmth of Zayn’s mouth wrapped around him and it’s all he can do to keep from screaming. 

Zayn licks over the vein on the underside of his cock, taking him deep as one of his hands comes up to slowly fondle Harry’s balls. And he’s so close already; Harry knows he’s going to come embarrassingly fast. He glances down to see Zayn staring at him from under his eyelashes and his hips jerk forward involuntarily. Zayn gags a little and pulls back, licking at the head of his cock before taking Harry in again.

“Sorry,” he mutters, hands curling around Zayn’s hair as he brushes his fingers over the shaved scalp again. He moans around him and that’s it, Harry’s coming without a second thought, body shaking with the force of his orgasm. 

Zayn just swallows around him, licking off any extra drop of come from him the same way Harry had done. 

Harry’s panting heavily against the wall as he finally comes back to himself, glancing down to see Zayn sitting back against it with his knees up, eyes closed as he too tries to control his breathing. After messily tucking himself back into his pants, Harry slides down the wall next to Zayn and presses up against his side.

Zayn doesn’t open his eyes as he moves an arm to wrap around Harry’s shoulder, kicking his legs out as Harry easily curls into his side. He kicks his legs over Zayn’s, face tucked in against Zayn’s neck as he breathes out slowly, practically curled up like a cat in his lap.

Harry doesn’t care though, doesn’t care that now it’s Zayn who’s winning. Because Harry might be that guy to smirk and flirt and make his partner fall apart, but he’s also that guy who is soft after an orgasm and wants to curl up and cuddle and feel warm arms wrap around him. 

Zayn doesn’t seem to care either that Harry has wrapped himself around him like an octopus, head resting against the top of Harry’s as one arm reaches across their bodies to hold his hip and the other hand slowly massages Harry’s scalp, fingers carding through his hair lazily.

“Feels nice,” Harry mumbles, arching into the touch and pressing a soft kiss to Zayn’s neck. It really doesn’t matter to him anymore that Zayn seems to have figured out this is Harry’s weakness. He’ll let Zayn know everything as long as he never stops.

There are gentle lips pressed to his forehead, and Harry blinks his eyes slowly like he’s going to fall asleep. Zayn’s just as soft as he is, and Harry could stay curled up here for the rest of the day if possible.

But he can’t, a fact he’s brutally reminded of by a pounding on the door.

“Uh, lads…you done in there?”

And that’s Liam. Harry wants to tell him to fuck off, let him and Zayn be, but he knows they only have the room for so long and that he has a meeting later before going to dinner with Niall.

“We’ll be out in a few minutes,” Harry calls out, voice muffled from where his face is still pressed tight against the skin of Zayn’s neck.

He feels Zayn’s body shaking slightly underneath him, a small lilt of laughter falling from his lips as he kneads the muscles at Harry’s neck. If possible, Harry melts even further into his arms.

“How about next time we do this somewhere more private?” Zayn murmurs, lips brushing over Harry’s ear as he speaks.

Harry smiles a little and nods, one arm wrapping around Zayn’s stomach and pressing against the warm skin underneath his open shirt.

“Mm, sounds perfect, babe,” he breathes, eyes closed as he tries to soak up the last seconds of calm he has.

It shouldn’t be like this, shouldn’t be so easy to already become attached to Zayn. Because Harry doesn’t even really know Zayn, barely said anything to each other during the whole shoot and only letting out needy whines when they blew each other. But Harry wants to know Zayn, wants to know what makes him tick, wants to hear him laugh at one of Harry’s stupid jokes, wants to make him fall apart in every way possible.

He wants to know the meaning behind each of Zayn’s tattoos, wants to show him his own that are hidden underneath the jumper he has on. He wants to hear Zayn talk about art and music, because he has a weird feeling that Zayn is interested in that, and laugh with him over dinner.

It scares Harry, how much he wants that when he knows practically nothing about this boy holding him against the wall, who knows maybe even less about Harry. 

“Dinner first though. I’m not always this easy,” he mumbles, trying to be nonchalant but it’s his way of testing Zayn, his way of seeing if Zayn wants the same thing or he just wants a lay.

There’s a knowing chuckle from above him, but Harry keeps his eyes squeezed closed, not wanting to see if Zayn is looking at him with pity. He jumps to hard and too fast sometimes, he knows.

“Sounds perfect, babe,” Zayn whispers fondly, mimicking Harry’s earlier words. “It’s a date.”

A slow smile spreads across Harry’s face, but before he can say anything else the door creaks and he opens his eyes to see Liam, Niall, and Louis walking in. Harry has no idea where the rest of the team is, but he’s not too concerned with it. Niall and Liam seeing him curled up like this, soft and warm and comfortable, is one thing; he doesn’t need everyone knowing.

Liam stops short as he finally takes in Harry and Zayn, pressed up against the wall at the back of the room, body’s wound tightly together. Harry sees the way his shoulders relax and how he lets out a breath, the way his eyes grow soft. Niall does the same thing, and even Louis looks like he’s about the break out into a smile.

Harry remembers then, the conversation he had with Liam and Niall before the shoot. He realizes how long it’s been since they’ve seen this, seen him curled around someone and happy.

He smiles again and pulls his head up from where he was resting on Zayn’s shoulder. He looks at the other boy and smiles, getting a wide smile and crinkled eyes in return, and Harry simply has to kiss him. 

As he sucks Zayn’s bottom lip into his mouth, he ignores the sound of whistling from the other side of the room, too wrapped up in Zayn to care. And if the way Zayn’s arms tighten around him and pull him to straddle his lap tell him anything, Zayn doesn’t care about anything else but them in that moment either.

**Author's Note:**

> I know next to nothing about modeling/photo shoots so I'm sorry for any horrible inaccuracies, just wanted to write some Zarry and smut at a photo shoot.
> 
> Let me know what you thought! Find me on tumblr if you want to talk about Zarry, or one direction, or for anything. :)
> 
>  
> 
> Zayn's outfit inspired by this:
> 
> the pants: http://www.unrealitytv.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2015/02/zayn-malik2-460x513.jpg
> 
> the shirt/hair: http://41.media.tumblr.com/35b295ca8b040a1d320518bfc24ee638/tumblr_njrtmmVqi91rx03eko4_500.png


End file.
